In hawai'i

The view of the ocean from the outlook point is spectacular. Lush green hill coasting the seashore, turquoise waves crashing against rough, jagged brown cliff edges. In the distance , covering the hills was a shroud of fog. Or perhaps vog, a mixture of fog and volcanic ash that often blankets this part of the Big Island. The volcano cannot be seen, and I doubt I will have the fortune to see it this time around, but Mauna Lea is out there, is alive and bleeding lava through pores of the face of the Earth. This island is alive, no wonder the original inhabitants of this land have such strong connections with the land and nature. For millennia they have lived at the mercy of the volcano's fiery breath, and have had to fled the bleeding lava that oozes out of the wounds of the Earth and shows no remorse to consume and destroy everything in its path.

Day five of my stay on Hawai'i (the island). What a charming and diverse land. The first few days were spent on the west coast, in a barren landscape "freshly" created from lava (still dozens if not millennia old...) The landscape is extremely dry and much devoid of life. Jagged lava rocks strewn over the land as far as the eyes can see, with mount Mauna Kea, the highest mountain in the world, if you count from the ocean bed, ever looming in the background. 

The land is pretty much barren, like the lunar or Martian landscape. In fact, NASA took their lunar rovers here to train before launching tem to the Moon, and more recently for the Pathfinder mission, they shipped rocks from this region of Hawai'i to simulate the Martian landscape. But in an enclave called Waikoloa Beach, developers have somehow managed to create a green oasis filled with high end hotels and malls, lush greens and tree lined avenues and artificial lakes and waterfalls. This in an area that see very little rain every year. 

I biked around a bit, the searing heat and gradual incline making it (literally) an uphill struggle and battle for my lungs. I haven't exercised on ages, the last time I went on a long bike ride was in the summer. But perseverance, constant hydration, and the "mission" to go to the local post office some 6 miles away, pushed me onward. Even before arriving in Hawaii , I had planned to see the monk I frequent in Taiwan some goodies from his birthplace as a lovely gift for the holidays and pleasant surprise. In the end, having battled sweat and exhaustion (a good thing, as my body is in dire need of a good detox and sweating after all those sleepless nights I pulled over the past few months), I managed to buy bags of dried fruits, coffee and macadamia nuts and paper leis and package it all nicely into a box and sent it on its way. A lady in the parking lot saw me pack all those goodies and laughed, saying "You did a great job! Someone will be very happy!" 

On one of the days, I booked myself onto a tour. I was told earlier that this particular tour would be all booked out. But luckily, by chance, I came across a company (THE company, as recommended by my taxi driver from the way to the hotel from the airport) still had a seat available on one of the nights I was in town. So off to Mauna Kea I went.

Yes, the mountain crowned with the highest astronomy telescopes in the world. I was excited, as I have come across many pictures of the stunning sunset from the top of the mountain. And the real thing was breathtaking ( partly also because it was over 4000m in elevation...!) The mountain seemed to be the roof of the world, a sacred site of the Hawaiians. A dozen or so observatories were built there, through the cooperation of a host of nations (including Taiwan!) The domes of the observatories listened in the dusk light, golden at first, then turning into orange as the sun descended slowly to eventually be consumed the horizon. The world changed colours from moment to moment, a dazzling, spectacular and mesmerising display of splashes of reds and oranges and violet with a shroud of dark grey and black gradually clouding over the entire sky canvas. I stood there dazed and silent, unaware and lost in the beauty of nature, the most creative and touching painter of them all...

With the sun set, stars slowly emerged to twinkle and play. Pale and faint at first, with the deepening darkness and my adjusted eyes, there appeared more and more. The guide set up a telescope, and a hot chocolate and brownie stand, and we all gathered to listen to him talk about amaze us with weird and wonderful facts about the universe. The nearest star is larger than the distance from the Sun to Earth... The blob of light out there is a cluster of galaxies, each containing billions of stars like our own Sun... Wonderful stories of how the Greeks came to name and place the astrological signs an constellations... It was eye-opening, and made me wonder why I never got into looking at stars or knowing how to read the heavens... Perhaps because I always loved in a big city, but even so the skies never ceased to fascinate me. 

I sat on the bus next to a lady in her late forties (I presume...) who is on her "sabbatical" year. Taking time out to travel an figure out what she wants to do next... She taught at a university in Wisconsin ( of all things Chinese  politics, great conversations with her!) , and a few years ago began pursuing a doctorate degree. But for a variety of reasons she never completed it. "It's not for everyone," she said. Is it for me, I wondered. 

So she is as lost and trying to find a way, much like I am, and she is older and more experienced than me. After the magical sunset and star-gazing, we proceeded to head back. In the bus,  we fell silent, and then at one point I said to her "Look how small we are compared to it all, and we are so consumed by our own problems. And we're trying to find our place and reason for existence in the universe..." How true. How true.

Fast forward two days, and here I am sitting in a guest house surrounded by the echoes and singsong of crickets and frogs in the middle of the forest. I could have been in a big city, elsewhere, in fact I arranged to stay three nights in the capital of the island called Hilo. But I cancelled it all at the last minute as soon as I arrived by plane and while I was transiting in Honolulu. The night before, I called the monk in tAiwan and told him of my plans to come to Hawaii. "There's a Tibetan monastery in Pahala!" He said, talking about the town he was born in. 

I was excited as soon as I heard monastery. I had planned a trip for this time to go meditate in Thailand, but I was /am simply much too tired to go all the way and spend three weeks wandering around, so instead opted for somewhere "closer" and a shorter stay. And the opportunity to visit and stay at a monastery was simply too good to pass. At least for me... I know most people my age wonder (and have even asked me expressly...) why I put myself through boredom and doing nothing by going to spend time at a monastery. 

But the stillness, the "just being", the joy I feel and feelings of being touched deep down inside, those are the reasons why I enjoy retreats so much. Listening to the sounds of nature, falling asleep under the cover of complete darkness, and living in a community of people with like minded thoughts and radiating kindness and compassion... Is there anything better than this in the world out there?

The resident monk is an old yet kind, kind Tibetan who speaks broken English. Yet his smile and kindness needs no explanation. I have had the fortune of meditating with him (only been two days....) , whereby he would chant Tibetan prayers and sutras and I would sit and follow in a book. It is a very different tradition compared to the Thai tradition I am used to. But still, Buddhism is largely the same the world over... Compassion, understanding, kindness, ceasing suffering and pain... Who do not want these things? Everyone. Who goes out in the world seeking these things? Most people do, because they know not better. 

I sat there with my eyes closed and was again renewed with great spiritual lift and vigour... At various points I felt so moved, close to tears even... My mind drifted to the trips I have made, particularly the trip. Made to India two years ago (as I was narrating it to the monk over breakfast). My mind drifted to mum's image and the warm feel of her presence (now, absence...), to dad's face and to his kindness... Yes I miss my parents still, I miss them dearly. Somehow the chanting by the old monk and the indecipherable Tibetan words hit a raw chord and brought out this strange mixture of joy, liberation, sadness and longing. Blended together like a nectar of bitter-sweetness , making me ache yet at the same time long for more. 

If only  I could keep this up this practice when I get home! If only I could always remember how beneficial and mode I am when I sit and meditate... Never too late...! And as I bid farewell to the monk earlier, as I am leaving very early in the morning to catch the last bus of the day...) the monk turned to me And said "Keep the practice! You are a good man..."

I left the monastery uplifted and feeling rejuvenated. I may be made fun of and seen as strange to go an meditate on my holidays, but if it helps me, if it is something I enjoy more than lying on a beach and doing very little all day, why does it matter? Sometimes you just need to the time alone and time to disconnect from everything and everyone because life and people do weigh you down. 

The bus ride through the hills and one side the view of the sea  was spectacularly open and inspiring. There is so much beauty in the world, so much to be enjoyed and cherished. If only we knew how and did that every single day. 

Tara tature